


Save You (And Then Some)

by DeathIsOverrated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-s9, Slow Build, but you will, don't hate me for it later, first fic for ao3, fix all, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathIsOverrated/pseuds/DeathIsOverrated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is all alone and trying to fix his life. Dean is gone, Kevin is dead, and Cas is MIA. Sam is working himself to death when some unexpected help arrives. Things don't exactly go as planned, however.</p><p>I royally suck at summaries</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfiction to be published on this site. I honestly think of it as one of my best, and I hope you guys like it too! Sabriel is an addiction, and, well, yeah. I do have it all planned out, but don't count on a regular posting schedule. Sorry.

Reading officially sucked.

Sam was alone in the empty bunker, and tired of doing non-stop research. Dean had vanished almost immediately after Sam saw him for the first time, saw his black eyes flash. He was abroad, doing demonic things, evil things for all Sam knew, and he was trying to track Dean down. It wasn't easy, and Sam had about as much now as he did on the first day he started looking. Which was to say, nothing.

Cas wasn't around much either, being kept busy running things in heaven. He stopped by occasionally, but with his waning grace his visits were coming less and less. With Dean in the wind, Crowley probably with him, and Cas on God-duty, Sam was alone. Again.

He had searched and studied and poured over the books and files in the bunker, looking for something to help him find Dean, or revert him to his human state, or stop Cas's grace from draining away. He searched for a way to get his life back to normal, when Crowley was the worst of their problems and Dean and Cas were stupidly oblivious. He found nothing. Sam found worse than nothing.

He found everything. Books and pages and files and volumes filled with words on every subject, anything he could ever hope to know or need to find. He found it. He found everything except what he actually needed. He was drowning in information, swimming through words about things he just didn't care about right now. Every day he stared at words until they were dancing across the page, until they were burned into the backs of his eyelids. He read until he wasn't reading anymore, just staring blankly at a page and not seeing past his thoughts.

Sam had no idea how late it was. He didn't know the time; hell, he didn't even know what day it was. He did know, however, that he wasn't exactly focused on his book. He stared at the volume in his hands, the journal of some hunter, or Man of Letters, or priest, or religious scholar, or something rambling about the soul after demonic influence; he was staring at the one word that, of course, popped up in whatever he read, the one word that completely described his life. Alone. Sam was completely, entirely, utterly alone.

"Well, you look like hell," a voice said, surprising Sam out of his thoughts. He hadn't heard that voice in years, hadn't even thought about it, and normally he would question its sudden reappearance, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"That's not surprising," Sam replied, turning to face the source of the voice. Yep. Either he was crazy (quite possible), or Gabriel was alive. "What do you want?"

"Can't I just say hi?" Sam scowled at the angel, who was leaning backwards in a wooden chair, balancing precariously on the back legs.

"You've been dead for five years, probably less. In the short time that I knew you as an archangel, you never once said 'hi'. You've never stopped by without an ulterior motive. And I'm not certain that I'm not just imagining you right now. So no. You can't." Gabriel brought his chair down, resting it firmly on the ground, and stared at Sam seriously.

"One: no, you aren't imagining me. I'm really here. Actually I'd be flattered if you were hallucinating me." Insert smirk. "Two: you're right. I do have a reason to be here. And three: I really was dead for five years, jackass."

Sam watched him, bored. Honestly, he couldn't care less. He didn't give a flying fuck if Gabriel was here to kill him or if he'd spent three years in Canada turning loggers into trees. What Sam cared about was his family. He cared about his brother, turned into a demon and running rampant upon the world. He cared about Cas and his draining grace, who had help them so much and died for them enough times to be Winchester. What he didn't care about was Gabriel. Gabriel was just a blip on the timeline of his life. He was just a monster who turned into an ally for a day. He was a murderer with a glorified name, and honestly Sam thought he might want to kill Gabriel anyway, for the trouble he caused them and to prevent any more of it. No. Gabriel was anything but family, and Sam simply didn't give a damn what he did or why.

"Good for you," Sam dead-panned. "Why are you here?" His tone was completely uninterested, as if Gabriel were just a waste of time. Which he was.

"Sam, you're running yourself into the ground," Gabriel started, his tone no-nonsense for once. "What you're doing now isn't helping anymore, if it even was in the first place. You do the same thing every time you lose him." Gabriel paused. Leaned back and considered Sam, taking in his disheveled look, blank eyes, and pallid color. "I'm here to help you, before you kill yourself."

"Can you turn him back into a human?" Sam asked pointedly, tired of bullshitting with the dead-not-dead archangel. "Can you stop Cas from losing his grace? Can you bring Kevin back from the dead?" Sam asked all of these questions doubtingly, but the question Gabriel heard under it all was, 'Can you fix my family?'

"No," he sighed, defeated, "I can't. But I -"

"Then leave," Sam cut him off. "If you can't help, get out. I don't want you here."

"Sam-"

"Get out!" Sam yelled, interrupting him again. "I don't need you! What I need is my family. And if you're just gonna sit there and tell me I can't do it, that you can't help me, then leave. That's what your good at, isn't it? Running away?" Sam smirked cruelly, watching the effect of his words. He watched anger flash through the angel's eyes, then he was staring straight into them, Gabriel's face inches from his own as he leaned over Sam in his chair, fury passing over his features.

"You. Know. Nothing," he growled quietly, somehow more menacing than he had ever been. "I ran away from heaven, but I NEVER abandoned my family." Gabriel pulled away from Sam's face, but remained standing over him. "The pagans were my family, Sam, and they chased me off. But I never ran away from them. Then there's you. You and Dean, you do good, you try. That's something worth fighting for, protecting. You say you need your family and you don't need me. Okay. I'm not your family. But you're my family now, and I'm NOT leaving you. So you can suck it up and deal." He stared at Sam, face open, not hiding behind the usual smirk.

"Okay, then, Family Man," Sam said sarcastically, "how are you gonna help?"

"Well, you never let me finish earlier," he replied, back to his normal self, "but I was going to say that I know HOW to help you." He watched with amusement as shock passed over Sam's features.

"How?" He asked, dead serious, because Gabriel knew. He knew how to help Sam, knew how to set his life back. The key to Sam's success was the right knowledge, and now Gabriel was holding that key.

But dealing with Gabriel was never that simple.

"I'm not going to tell you," the angel said calmly.

"Tell me, dammit!" Sam demanded, mood jumping back to anger.

"No," Gabriel replied. "Not yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it's going to take a lot, Sam. From me and you. And you aren't ready for that."

"Like hell I'm not."

"You barely eat or sleep, Sam. The only thing you do is read, and that is slowly driving you insane. You aren't ready for this, physically or mentally." Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Gabriel raised a hand to stop him. "No, I can't just snap you better, because it wouldn't help any. Your soul is drained, and I can't recharge that. The strength of your soul is going to be a key point of your 'fix the world' mission, and I'm going to make sure it's up to the challenge before you jump over the edge. Any questions?" Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly, a very small smile on his face.

"You don't shut up, do you?"

"I try not to, it gives the idiots less time to speak." Sam laughed under his breath, watching as the trickster sat down across from him again.

"So you're gonna whip my soul into shape, huh?" he asked, anger dissipated.

"I could use a whip, if you're into that sorta thing," Gabriel smirked, catching Sam off guard.

"Wha- ah, um, no. Not, uh, not what I meant," he said, glaring at the angel who was now grinning at his discomfort. He waited for the angel to say something snarky, but it never came. "How do you plan on helping, then?"

"Well, first how about a beer?" Gabriel suggested, and a bottle materialized in front of each of them. Sam shrugged, grabbing the bottle in front of him and opening it with a hiss. He drank, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cold liquid hit his throat.

"So," Sam said, setting down his beer, "is there anything else to this plan of yours?" Gabriel smirked at him, beer untouched.

"Getting you to stop reading is a big part of it," he replied, watching as Sam's face fell from relaxed smile to serious.

"No way." Sam's voice was low, almost a growl. Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes at the yoyo-ing conversation.

"It isn't helping you, Sam! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"It's all I can do!" He protested, reaching for the book he has been attempting to read before the angel showed up.

"Sam, if you don't put that book down I will turn every book in this bunker into gay porn." Sam paused, stunned. He took a minute to process what was said, then gave his own small smirk.

"Even the stuff about you?" he joked, taking another sip of beer. Gabriel didn't miss a beat.

"You mean it isn't already?" he quipped, grinning as Sam choked on his beer. "I never ran into the Men of Letters, Sam. Anything they may have on me is that religious crap from the bible, almost none of which was true."

"Oh really?" Sam said when he got his breathing back to normal. Gabriel cocked an eyebrow, watching as Sam stood up and walked out of the room. He came back a few minutes later, a thin file in his hand. He threw it down on the table in front of Gabriel.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Look for yourself," Sam replied. Gabriel pulled the file to him, opening it as he did so. Inside was a page of information in old type set and a blurry black and white photo with an accompanying newspaper article. And in the background was the distinct, albeit blurry, face of the trickster. "Never ran into them, huh?"

"I'd forgotten about this one. I never realized those pencil pushers had caught wind of me," he mused as he read the article: Leo Travis, 27, was found dead in an abandoned warehouse. Travis, a local hero, was found bruised and beaten, although the cause of death is being labeled a heart attack.

"A guy in his late twenties dies of a heart attack, and there's no history of heart disease with him or his family? How is that not suspicious?" Sam questioned. Gabriel shrugged, relaxing back into his chair. He sat down across from the angel. "What'd he do to get killed, anyway? He was a local hero."

"That was the early fifties in the south, Sam. Lots of racial tension. Couple white kids start picking on a couple black kids, fight ensues, and then the heroic white cop shows up and arrests the black 'trouble makers', he's celebrated as a hero. So, of course, nobody notices if a couple delinquent Nigroes go missing.

"And when the bodies show up, the released cause of death is overdose, not taking into account the bruises and blood and broken bones. So, someone had to do something. I made him see those kids for a few days, making him think he was crazy. Then, well, you know how vengeful spirits are. They can get violent." Gabriel smirked, shrugging again. Sam shook his head.

"And you never once thought there might have been a hunter after you?" The angel frowned.

"You and Dean are the first hunters I've actually had to deal with since the 20s," he stated. "I just didn't think the Men of Letters would be ones to go after a vengeful spirit story." Sam leaned over, pointing to something on the page.

"Well, apparently they were smarter than you thought," he said, as his finger rested above the word TRICKSTER in bold black letters and circled in red. Gabriel titled his head curiously.

"I guess they were," he said, relaxing back into his chair once more. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but something was nagging at Sam in the back of his mind and he couldn't let it go.

"Earlier, you said I was family. Why?" He watched the angel's face for any sign of a tell. It stayed neutral, almost detached.

"In heaven, I would have done anything for my brothers, died for them, even. But I couldn't stand the fighting. That's when I left." Gabriel stared at the table as he spoke, eyes distant and unfocused, looking into the past. "I found the pagans, then. They took me in, knowing absolutely nothing about me. I realized, with them, what family is really like. Not just dying for them, but living for them too. Trust and love and pain and hurt, but most of all, forgiveness. Giving up everything just to see them happy. But, of course, I screwed that up too. They chased me off, telling me to never show my face again or they would feed it to wolves. They all still thought I was Loki." Gabriel paused, giving a wry smile. "I still have no idea how Kali figured out who I am.

"So I ran around for a few centuries, being the trickster, not having any form of family. And I ran into you two. I knew who you were, of course. I knew your lives mirrored Michael and Lucifer's. But when I actually met you, I felt a spark of difference. Loyalty, trust, dependency. All the things my brothers lacked. And your forgiveness of each other, whole-hearted and unquestioned. That was the kind of family that changed fate. And I knew what would happen. I knew about the big showdown. You guys would have been destroyed. And so I chose you, over Michael or Lucifer or the pagans. Because you guys are true family to each other. That's worth protecting, even if it isn't your own family. So I did. I died for you guys, because you protect family. I had started looking at you as family before you even knew who I was. I guess it stuck." Gabriel finally looked up at Sam, eyes full of emotion, open and asking for understanding.

"So you came to help me because of forgiveness?" Sam asked. He was a little overwhelmed by the confession. He had just been expecting a small simple answer, but what he got was practically the angel's life story.

"And Castiel may have asked me to check on you," Gabriel added with a shrug. Sam smiled.

"Thanks, Gabriel." It was for the story, for trusting him, as much as it was for helping him.

"You know, that's the first time you've said my name since you found out who I am?" Gabriel pointed out. Sam tilted his head.

"Really?" The angel nodded.

"At least that I know of. I was dead for five years," he smirked at the large hunter.

"So, you actually did die, and you stayed dead, for five years?" Sam questioned, just to be sure.

"Yep. But that's a story for a different day. You need to sleep." Sam opened his mouth to protest. "Sleep is step three of the plan," Gabriel said before Sam could get a word out. "You have two choices: you can walk yourself to a room and sleep in a bed, or," he raised his fingers to snap them, "I can snap you to sleep right where you are. Your choice," he said casually as Sam stood up hurriedly. He pointed an accusing finger at the angel.

"You're gonna tell me that story later," he threatened. Gabriel grinned at him.

"I already shared, Sammy. It's your turn next." Sam shook his head, turning and walking down the corridor to the bedrooms. Once he was sure Sam had entered one of the many rooms, Gabriel disappeared.

 

Sam flicked off the lamp in his room, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He lay there, waiting, but the darkness only seemed to get darker. Just as he sensed something was very seriously wrong, he lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip! Ok not really. Maybe a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, yep, that took forever. So sorry for that. But here ya go!

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" The irritatingly chipper voice resonated through the room, dragging Sam out of a wonderful sleep. He groaned and pressed his face into his pillow, trying to block out the bright artificial light and loud voice.

"Go to hell, Dean," he muttered, words muffled by the pillow. He waited for the inevitable snarky quip, but all he heard was a hesitant silence. He felt a hand settle gently on his shoulder. Confused, he turned his head to look and found himself staring into sad gold eyes.

"Sam-"

"Shit," Sam said, shooting upward and knocking Gabriel's hand away. For a minute, he had thought that it was all a bad dream, that Dean was waking him with the news of another hunt. Of course he couldn't be that lucky. He turned to sit on the edge of the bed, feet resting on the floor. He sighed, carding his fingers through his messy hair.

"You okay, Sam?" the angel asked, genuine concern on his face.

"Yeah, I just… for a minute I thought…" Sam trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

"I know," Gabriel stated. Neither spoke for a minute. Then, "Well, how about some breakfast?"

"What?" Sam asked, confused. He wondered about the seemingly hyper archangel's ability to bounce back and forth from various topics and moods. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"You know, pancakes, bacon, coffee. Breakfast! The most important meal of the day, makes you big and strong," he paused, considering. "Well, you don't really need that benefit of breakfast anymore," he added as a joking afterthought.

"I'm not hungry," Sam said, right before his stomach rumbled a silent contradiction. The angel vanished from Sam's sight, only to appear a second later, reclining on the opposite side of Sam's bed, arms hooked behind his head and watching Sam, amused.

"The rules are simple, Sammy. Do what I say, and I help you. Or ignore me completely and I force you to do what I say. I don't really care." He give a noncommittal shrug and closed his eyes, smug smile on his face.

"You're giving me orders?" Sam asked, eyebrow quirked. Gabriel opened his eyes a bit to observe.

"I am a very dominant person," he responded, closing his eyes again. He felt the bed shift, and then Sam's breath was hot against his ear.

"So am I," the man whispered, words slipping easily off his tongue. Gabriel felt his weight vanish from the bed and his eyes shot open in shock. He stared at Sam's form as it walked out the door, completely at a loss.

"Bastard," he muttered, snapping himself into the bunker's kitchen. Sam wandered in a moment later, ignoring Gabriel in favor of the coffee maker, starting a fresh pot. "I thought the vanishing act was my thing." Sam said nothing, and Gabriel could practically hear the smirk in the hunter's silence. "Fine then. I won't tell you," he huffed. Finally Sam turned around to face him.

"Won't tell me what?" he questioned, leaning casually back against the counter.

"The plan." Gabriel sat at the small table, examining his fingernails as if the whole thing was very insignificant and a waste of time.

"Right. The plan. I think I got it already," he scoffed, throwing in an eye roll.

"Not that plan," the angel argued. "The real plan. You know, Operation Fix The World Or Die Trying?" Sam's mood sobered up quickly.

"Oh. That plan." He sat at the table across from Gabriel, suddenly very serious.

"That was you guys' whole problem, you know? You always rushed right into things without having a plan of action," the angel mused, watching the hunter.

"Could you just tell me?" Sam cut in, irritated.

"You haven't eaten yet," he protested. Sam glared at him.

"Tell me the damn plan, Gabriel," he growled. The archangel tilted his head, considering.

"Compromise," he offered. "You eat, I talk, we're both happy," Gabriel suggested. Sam gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. "Great," the trickster said, and with a snap a plate loaded with food appeared in front of the hunter. Sam stared at it for a moment, shaking his head slightly before pulling it towards him.

"So. The plan?" he asked, taking a bite from the stack of pancakes on the plate.

"Well, there are three main things that you're trying to fix, right?" Gabriel started, surprisingly serious about the whole thing. "Reverting Dean to his human state, replacing Castiel's grace, and bringing back your prophet friend. Obviously the easiest one to do is resurrect the prophet, but I can't do that."

"What? Why not?" Sam interrupted, receiving a dirty look when he did.

"Because we need to fix Castiel." He made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, but Sam was very lost.

"I don't follow." The angel rolled his eyes.

"He's an angel. Anything to do with angels is gonna be on the angel tablet. Which is in heaven."

"So go get it! You can get into heaven and grab the tablet, then bring back Kevin and he can translate it for us." It didn't seem that complicated.

"It's in a thousand pieces," Gabriel added, watching as Sam's face fell.

"Oh," he said simply.

"And Kevin," the angel continued, "as the last prophet, is the only one who can fix it. Living humans can't enter heaven, or else I'd just do it that way. Fortunately, the prophet's soul retains the powers of a prophet."

"But Kevin's a ghost," Sam cut in again. "He isn't in heaven."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," was the sarcastic reply. Sam rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "So our prophet's a ghost. I send him from the veil to Neverland, take his soul to the pile of dust, he does his mojo, and we have a whole tablet again. I take the rock, give the prophet his life back, and we have him translate." Gabriel leaned back, relaxing as if the whole plan were a walk in the park.

"I guess we're going to Michigan, then," Sam said, pushing away his mostly empty plate. Gabriel watched the motion, satisfied smirk plastered across his face.

"Yep," he replied. "The faster you get ready, the faster I can get us there, so hurry up." Sam started shaking his head in protest.

"No way. No Angel Airlines this time. We're driving." Gabriel's brow furrowed.

"Sam, driving will take days, and I -"

"No, Gabriel. We're driving. That's it." Sam's words were final, leaving no room for argument. Gabriel nodded silently, watching the form of the retreating hunter curiously. Sam had never had a problem with angel travel before, and it would seem that he would want to get his family back as fast as possible, right?

Ten minutes later found Gabriel sitting in the passenger seat of the beloved black Impala and Sam in the driver's seat, hair still damp from his five minute shower. Sam reached over and turned on the radio, 'Blackout' by the Scorpions blasting through the speakers as they roared down the two-lane road. After a minute he turned the volume down.

"I can feel your eyes boring a hole in my face, Gabriel. What?" he asked, never taking his eyes from the road.

"I'm just surprised it's not John Mellencamp or something," the angel responded. Sam was really surprising him.

"I listen to rock," the hunter protested.

"Yeah, because that's all Dean ever plays," Gabriel scoffed. "It's not like some rule says that the Impala must only play rock music, Sam."

"No," he agreed, "but there is a rule."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Sam glanced at him, smirking. Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes, settling his gaze out the window on the passing landscape.

Sam had certainly been strange that day. The brazen flirtation- had it been a flirtation? - the adamant refusal of flight, and the strange music choice. None had been very Sam-like things to do, but Gabriel didn't know what to think about that. It wasn't like he really knew Sam Winchester anyway. He hadn't really known either of the Winchesters, actually, but he had known a little. Suddenly it dawned on him.

"We're taking the Impala," he stated, breaking the settled silence in the car. Sam shot him a confused look.

"What else are we gonna drive, the Batmobile?" Gabriel huffed. Winchesters. You could always expect one of them to be an asshole at any given moment.

"I'm just surprised Dean left it. I mean, he had an almost romantic attachment to this car." Sam pulled a face at that comment, to Gabriel's amusement.

"Well, you don't really need a car when you can just teleport, do you?" he said in response.

"Right. Remind me again why we're driving?" Sam had just unintentionally sided with Gabriel in their non-argument from earlier, and the angel was considering it a win for himself.

"Shut up," the hunter shot back good-naturedly. "Maybe I wanted to take the trip."

"So you actually wanted to be in a small enclosed space with me for long periods of time?" Gabriel joked, grinning. "Sammy I'm flattered."

"God, I hadn't even considered that!" he groaned, but he also had a grin spread on his face.

"It's not too late," the angel offered, "I can still get us there faster." Sam paused for a moment.

"Nah," he said finally. "I think I can deal with it. Besides, if you get too unbearable, there's holy oil in the trunk."

"You wouldn't." Sam just watched the road ahead, leaving Gabriel's words hanging in the car.

 

They pulled into a cheap motel around eleven that night, on Gabriel's insistence. Sam walked into the front office, warily eyeing the water-stained ceiling and faded wallpaper. The woman at the desk seemed nice enough, however, unlike most places he and Dean had stayed over the years. Her eyes bounced back and forth between Sam and Gabriel, and Sam prepared for "the question." She smiled brightly at them, despite the late hour.

"Two beds, gentlemen?" she asked, surprising Sam. Perhaps she was just an unassuming person. He relaxed, giving get a polite smile.

"Actually it's just one," Gabriel responded before Sam could say anything. Sam's head whipped around, shocked and confused at the same time. The woman tilted her head slightly, still smiling kindly. "I'm not staying, just seeing that Sam here gets settled in." Sam let out a breath as the angel explained. Gabriel's words had caught him completely off guard. The girl nodded and began typing on her computer. She turned back a minute later and handed Sam a key with the number 129 printed on the tag.

"Your room is going to be in the complex on the left, ground level," she told him. Sam gave a small nod, turning and waking out the door with Gabriel following behind. 

The room wasn't half bad, for being a cheap motel. It had a pleasant smell (too many times had Sam been in a room smelling of mold, alcohol, vomit, sex, or a combination of either), and was in decent condition. The only thing he couldn't judge by looking was the water pressure.

After his glanced inspection of the room, Sam turned to the archangel standing in the doorway, wondering why he was still here. Sam cleared his throat, feeling a tiny bit awkward with Gabriel watching him so intently.

"Well, I guess you can zap off now," he said, because what else would he say? There wasn't much he could say, considering the angel was just making sure he didn't work himself to death. It wasn't as if he had actually asked for Gabriel's help; he just accepted the offer.

"Yeah. Sure Sammy." The angel vanished, not even bothering with a snap. Just a low rustle of wind, and the doorway was no longer occupied.

"It's Sam," he protested to the empty space, knowing he would be heard. Turning back around, Sam saw the too-small table set with a plate of salad, just waiting for him to sit and eat. He scowled at it, knowing which short and douchey angel was the cause. It was in no part the salad's fault, but that didn't stop Sam from glaring at it. Stupid Gabriel. But since it was part of the semi-unspoken agreement that Sam eat, he grudgingly sat before the plate of greens, picked up the fork, and ate the stupid salad. He refused to admit how good it actually was.

***

Sam was surrounded by darkness again. It wasn't liquid, but yet it still felt fluid. It flowed around him and seeped into his skin, invading his thoughts. He struggled against it, pushing it away and trying to escape its grasp. But the harder he fought, the more violently it reacted to him, clinging to his skin and ripping away everything that he was. He opened his mouth to scream, and the blackness rushed down his throat to tear him apart from the inside. He could feel it push its way into his heart, spreading the darkness through his veins. He felt every blood cell wither and shrink away as the black touched it, felt them give up and be invaded as he had been by this dark virus. His lungs, instead of taking in oxygen, took in black essence, floating it down the defeated veins to his organs. He felt when the blackness touched his brain.

It dug with long, spindly fingers into his memories, pulling out everything he had shoved away, bringing to light what he had wanted kept in shadow. It brought out Amelia; how he left her, how he had left Dean for her. It dragged out Ruby, his addiction to demon blood and how he still felt it inside of him. It tore from his mind how a tiny part of him still craved the blood and the power it brought him. It ripped open everything he had done while soulless, every innocent person he killed, everyone he let die. It brought out Jess from the darkest corners, his guilt over her death, his love for her, the life he planned on living with her, the life she should have lived. It found his parents, John and Mary, and how he thought their deaths were his fault. It raised Lucifer from the deepest pits, shoved the apocalypse and everyone who had died because of it in his face. The blackness invaded him, took all of him and ripped it apart. Here had no idea who he was. Everything that was Sam Winchester was drug out and demolished. He knew nothing but the darkness.

In the midst of the darkness -the black substance that was filling his veins, burning his body, shredding his brain, and staining his bones - he saw something. It didn't seem real; nothing did except the blackness. It was small, distant, glowing faintly, and it radiated light.

Not light like photons, or light from the sun or a lamp. It was light, like goodness. It was golden, glowing, emitting feelings of forgiveness, friendship, love, trust, family, and hope. It was warm, blasting away the cold, slimy feel of the black like the first day of spring took the winter. It came gradually closer, growing bigger as it drew near. The darkness receded, leaving Sam (yes, that's who he was; he was Sam Winchester, he made mistakes, and he had atoned for them) with a feeling of peace. The light grew closer and closer still, heating Sam to an almost unbearable point. It was hot, yet he did not burn. It only chased away the dark. He reached for the light, barely grazing it with the tip of his middle finger, and a profound sense of calm washed over him. He relaxed back into himself, forgetting entirely about the blackness.

The light hesitated over him, then began to fade away, seemingly assured that the blackness would not return. It faded slowly, retreating carefully until it vanished. Once it was gone, the darkness settled around Sam once again, not pulling him or pushing, just letting him be. It was complacent, for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Hate me for leaving it there? Let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! And where the author is sorry in advance.

In all honesty, Gabriel had no idea what had happened. He had left Sam and everything was fine and dandy. Later, though, he felt the hunter's soul call out, searching for some sort of anchor, looking for a safe place. Safe from what, Gabriel didn't know. He had rushed to the motel room only find Sam sleeping; whatever was wrong, it was going on in his head. He stretched out a small tendril of Grace, hoping to at least calm the Winchester, but instead he found something much more disturbing. There was something in Sam's head.

Gabriel couldn't get a good grasp on what exactly it was, but it wasn't friendly. By now Sam's soul was screaming for help; this thing was rooting around inside of him, tearing him apart and bearing everything Sam felt guilty about. Out of respect, Gabriel didn't search through those things. But he didn't need to. Whatever this thing was, it was ripping open every old scar on Sam's soul that had been held together with fragile tissue created from alcohol and forgetting. Every tiny bit of anguish Sam's soul had gone through was being exposed, and he was going through it all again. Sam's soul was fragile enough as it was; Gabriel couldn't let it be broken entirely. He had to stop this… whatever it was.

Carefully, so as not to harm Sam, Gabriel had stretched out more of his Grace, letting it expand towards the thing. As he drew closer, it moved further away, until it vanished entirely and it was just Sam's soul and the small part of Gabriel's essence. The soul, bright and scarred, close to shattering, extended the smallest of strands, reaching curiously; it was pure Sam, no thoughts or inhibitions, just a base need to stretch for warmth, light, and goodness, like a vine growing toward the sun. Gabriel had been fixated, not removing the small bit of Grace; he hadn't actually had much experience with souls. He knew that his Grace wouldn't hurt Sam, that it would do the opposite. But he didn't know exactly what would happen. So he stayed still.

The cool touch of the soul sent a jolt through him that he distantly felt in his vessel. With a single small scrape of contact, Gabriel felt all of Sam's fear and rage and anguish at losing his brother, but he also felt the hope that things would be right again. What surprised him the most was Sam's faith in him. The trust, a wary and fragile thing that was just starting to bloom, along with a small amount of resentment and a little bit of a grudge held from the Mystery Spot were all associated, in Sam's mind, with Gabriel. He felt Sam's soul calm as it touched his Grace and he backed out, drawing himself away.

Gabriel had returned to his vessel panting, not from a physical exertion but more from the weight of it all. Here was this cracked, crumbling soul that had had the worst blows anyone could get hit with, and it still held hope, held faith. Gabriel really truly wanted to help Sam, and he was glad to see that this man, who had seen the worst and most evil things in the world, who had literally been to hell and back and faced the devil, still had a childish sort of hope in him. But the overwhelming part of it all was that the thing that Sam decided to put his hope into… was Gabriel. He was an archangel, yes, but he had fucked up probably more than anyone, especially when it counted. He had done nothing to earn the faith that Sam put into him, not even after sacrificing himself; if anything, his sacrifice was only his atonement for past misdeeds. He had checked to make sure Sam was sleeping peacefully before he flew off again.

He decided to focus on whatever was digging through Sam's brain instead of what he witnessed inside Sam's soul. Whatever it was had been cold and black, a thick, dark, thing emanating malicious intent and the desire to harm. It was almost like a demon's true form, but if it was it was unlike any Gabriel had seen before. Demons were just hollowed, burnt husks of human souls after millennia of torture, but this thing felt bigger; it felt alive. It felt dangerous.

The next morning Gabriel was back in the motel room, waiting for Sam to wake up. He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, partially lost in thought, so he didn't notice the hunter stirring slightly.

"So is that just an angel thing?" Sam asked from the bed, voice heavy with sleep, startling Gabriel from his reverie of the previous night.

"Is what an angel thing, Sammy? You're gonna have to be more specific." Sam sat up on the bed, combing a hand through his mess of hair, eyes squinted against the light filtering into the room.

"The whole watching people sleep thing," he clarified. "Is it an angel thing, or are you and Cas just weird like that?"

"You think I was watching you sleep? Please," Gabriel scoffed, standing from his chair and wandering to the foot of the bed. "Like I would want to be in the room while you're having dirty dreams." Sam shot him a look.

"I wasn't having sex dreams, Gabriel."

"Then what were you dreaming about?" The question was asked with a smirk and an arched eyebrow, but the angel was genuinely curious. This was his chance to see if Sam remembered anything.

"What? Nothing. Why does it -- Why am I even telling you?" Sam was flustered, looking seriously confused by the conversation. But Gabriel could sense the honesty in Sam's words. He had no recollection of the black essence.

He shrugged in response to Sam's question. "I dunno, Sammy. Why ARE you telling me?" Gabriel turned, walking towards the window to look out behind the curtain at the mostly empty parking lot. Sam didn't respond; instead Gabriel heard the rustle of fabric and the squeak of the bed springs, followed shortly by what Gabriel assumed was the bathroom door closing and water running.

So Sam didn't remember. It was probably for the best; he had so much to deal with, and he didn't need to worry about this. What he needed to focus on right now was his self-appointed mission to save his family. Gabriel decided to keep what happened to himself, at least until Sam had his brother back.

Gabriel was so lost in thought this time that he didn't notice the door opening again. Sam tapped his shoulder, causing the angel to jump and pulling a small chuckle from the hunter.

"You seem kinda out of it," Sam said, "are you okay?" Gabriel met Sam's eyes with his own, surprised to find a hint of concern in the hunter's hazel eyes. The trickster grinned.

"Aww, are you actually worried about me Sam? And here I thought you didn't care." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Shut up." The hunter started shuffling around the room, gathering what little he had with him into his duffle bag and heading for the door. Gabriel appeared in front of him, blocking the exit. "Move, Gabriel."

"Nope. Breakfast first." Sam sighed, sliding the bag off his shoulder.

"Fine," Sam conceded. "What's on the menu today?" he asked, the words biting sarcastically. The angel paused, pretending to think.

"I dunno," he mused, "what day is it?"

"Tuesday," the hunter responded, turning back to the room and away from Gabriel, not seeing the wide smile break out on the archangel's face.

"Tuesday, huh?" Sam faced him again, suspicious of the tone Gabriel used. "Pig in a poke?" he suggested, and Sam's face slipped into exasperated annoyance.

"Not funny, Gabriel."

"Have a sense of humor, Sam," Gabriel taunted. "I mean, it wouldn't kill ya." Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing the bag again and walking to the door.

"We're done here," the hunter said. Gabriel's face fell, realizing that he may have crossed a line. He stopped Sam before he could leave.

"Wait." Sam paused, but didn't turn around. "I'm sorry, Sam. No more jokes." There was a hesitant silence.

"No more?"

"I promise." Sam faced him again, not setting the bag down, but staying in the room. Gabriel sighed to himself. Sam didn't want to stay here. The only reason he was doing anything Gabriel said was because he thought the angel wouldn't help if he didn't. Gabriel would help Sam no matter what he did; if not for the hunter, then for Castiel. Gabriel was just a tool to Sam, a means to an end. And, well, if that's what Sam saw him as, who was he to be something different? He'd tried to do that most of his life, and it never worked. He was an angel, a little brother, a god, a trickster, a scapegoat, a mistake, a screw-up, a killer, and a villain, but he had never really been wanted.

"Never mind, Sam," he said quietly. "Let's just go."

"Actually, I am a little hungry," Sam said in response, his tone slightly sheepish. It was Gabriel's turn to walk toward the door, his back to the Winchester.

"Whatever you want, kiddo," he said, waiting before he vanished.

"Pancakes are fine." Sam's voice was confused, and possibly a little hurt, but Gabriel told himself he didn't care. He snapped his fingers, the obedient genie obeying his master's wish, before disappearing without a word to Sam.

Gabriel wasn't mad at Sam; he knew that Sam wasn't just using him. The thing was, Sam trusted him. Sam trusted him and that scared the crap out of Gabriel. He had never been really trusted, not even by the pagans. It was a heavy burden that he had never been charged with in all the millennia he had existed, and now the person whose trust he least deserved was relying on him.

He didn't deserve to be trusted at all. He was unreliable and would inevitably end up making things worse. That's why he ran away. He ran away from his problems before he could make them worse.

With a shock, he realized that's what he was doing. He was running away again, and he had told Sam that he wouldn't. He was scared and running, and letting everyone down again. He was determined not to do that this time. So he stopped. Gabriel stopped his aimless wandering, instead stretching out his Grace to search for Sam's bright soul. He cursed himself when he realized that Sam was blocked from an angel's sight. Switching his search from Sam to the mechanical energy of the Impala, he found the hunter driving down an empty two-lane highway.

The interior was silent when Gabriel appeared in the passenger seat; Sam didn't even look over, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Do you still want to know about my death?" Gabriel asked softly, and he was met with silence. "I know you're mad, Sam, and I deserve it. Please, just let me tell you, okay?" Still nothing. The angel sighed, but continued speaking.

"I remember looking back at you as you walked Kali out," he began, deciding it was as good a place as any. "I looked at her, then you, and then you guys were gone. It was an illusion of course; all part of the grand plan. Not that it mattered in the end.

"My illusion was arguing with Lucifer as I tried to sneak up on him. I thought it would distract him and I could get him from behind. He didn't fall for it, though. Of course he wouldn't; I looked up to him, idolized him. Everything I know was from him.

"Just as I was about to stab him, he turned around, using my own sword to kill me. He stabbed me in the stomach, right here," Gabriel put his hand over the spot, right below his left rib. Sam still didn't look over. "He stabbed me, Sam. My own brother, and he didn't think twice.

"I've had this body for a long time, but that was the first time I'd ever really felt it. Something about the power held in the blade grounded me. When an angel is in a vessel, it's confining, but this? This was like being buried alive. Tons and tons of pressure, all over, that I'd never noticed before. The weight of a human body is unimaginable, when you're used to being able to just, I don't know, flow.

"I know you know what it's like to die, Sam. But all the times you've died, it's been quick. This was slow, and dying is different for an angel. I felt the blade go into me, felt the skin and muscles and nerves tearing. There was this searing pain radiating through my body and my Grace. It's truly unimaginable, unless you experience it. Imagine, everything you are, being picked apart and unraveled from one tiny seam. Then a numbness started spreading, from the very edges; I couldn't feel my hands, my feet. There was this darkness, too, coming at the edge of my vision, moving equally with the numbness, taking away all feeling. Everything I was, contracting and collapsing into this one tiny space, right here," Gabriel moved his hand over his heart. He wasn't in the car with Sam; he was back in that hotel.

"He was there, trough it all. Lucifer, watching me die. I remember looking at him, thinking 'he did it. He really did it. My own brother killed me.' I think I lost most of the faith I had right then.

"I was cold, Sam. Very cold. It was strange, something I had no experience with. And then my Grace, all that power and creation compacted into this too small space, exploded. Everything went dark. I think that's when I died." Gabriel turned to look at Sam, but the hunter still wouldn't acknowledge him. His face remained impassive, looking straight ahead. The angel sighed, continuing with the story.

"The next thing I remember, I was in an office. I didn't recognize it, but I could feel that I was in heaven. I hadn't been in heaven for so long; centuries, Sam, and I was finally home. It was great and amazing… and totally wrong. The angels were gone. That's when I realized Metatron was there. The skeezy mook started talking about a new heaven, and he needed powerful angels to run the joint. He tried telling me that we were the same, that because we had run away we shared the right to an uncorrupted heaven; I told him to shove it. So he put me in heaven's prison. It was an isolated area, so nobody even knew I was there. At least, not until Castiel came into power, when he had the sense to look around. He found me, let me go, and told me the basic rundown of things. Then he asked me to check up on you, and well, you know the rest." Gabriel finally fell silent, finished with that story. They had traveled miles, through towns and cities, past fields and farms, driving down one long stretch of asphalt. Gabriel shifted nervously, waiting for Sam to respond, or move, or show some form of recognition. Finally, after an eternity, the large hunter sighed.

"Why'd you leave, Gabriel?" Sam's eyes flicked over for the briefest of moments, acknowledging the angel's existence.

"Earlier?" Sam nodded in response. "Honestly, Sam? I was scared, so I was running away, out of habit." The hunter frowned, confused.

"Why would you be scared?"

"Because you needed me. In all my life, I've never really been needed or wanted. Nobody has ever relied on me for anything or trusted me. And there you are, needing me to help you and trusting that I'll do it right, when all I'm sure of is that I will somehow screw it up. I've never had a real responsibility, and I'm scared that I'll let you down. I think that's part of the reason I went up against Lucifer, five years ago. Part of me knew I would die, and it saw death as another chance to run away. I run when I'm afraid, Sam. It's all I know. I don't know how to trust, and I don't know what it's like to be trusted. I'm afraid of screwing it up, but I'm also afraid of letting you down again. Trust and be trusted, right? You trust me, so this is me trusting you." It was the only way he knew how to show Sam that he did actually trust him; by revealing what he hid from the world. Sam looked over at him, some strange emotion on his face.

"Who ever said I trusted you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all survive? I didn't. Let me know what you think!
> 
> On another note, I recently got an Instagram, where I might post updates about this. My username is minichocolatemoose, so you can follow of you want.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet some old friends, and Gabe makes some new ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap guys I'm so sorry this took six months to update. I was sick, then had horrible writer's block, then some family drama that lasted for a couple months, then I got engrossed in some other fandoms, and then when I finally finished this chapter my computer went wonky so it's just been sitting here. Anyway, enough of my excuses. Have some fanfiction

Gabriel swallowed thickly. Had he really given himself away with one little slip of his words?

"Um." He was at a loss for what to say, and he was silently cursing himself for his word choice.

"I absolutely DON'T trust you, and I don't know what got into your head to make you think otherwise. You probably have some hidden ulterior motive, and you're gonna leave the minute this is all over anyway. And if you're actually stupid enough to trust me, well that's your own damn problem." Sam kept his eyes forward, fixed on the road ahead.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Sammy," Gabriel said. All he wanted to do was run away again, but something wouldn't let him. He wouldn't give the hunter the satisfaction of seeing how much his words really hurt. He slipped back under the familiar and comfortable mask of laid back, uncaring trickster. "I always knew you were the smart one." Sam gave him a confused look, and Gabriel returned it with a smirk, although it didn't reach his eyes.

The trickster raised his hand and snapped, their surroundings changing instantly. The empty fields that they had been driving past were replaced by small houses and neatly kept gardens. The car was stopped in front of a familiar house, the engine idling quietly as Sam stared at the angel.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed; Gabriel shrugged and materialized a red sucker, twirling it for a moment before responding.

"Well, I guess I'm leaving the minute this is all over, so I figured we should just get it over with." He meant to sound light, but his words had an unintentional sting. Even as the trickster, Gabriel was never really good at hiding his true emotions. He opened the passenger door, stepping out of the Impala onto smooth concrete. Sam quickly followed suit, shutting the door and ignoring Gabriel completely as he walked to the front door. Gabriel considered the lollipop in his hand as he trailed behind the hunter; he threw it over his shoulder and it disappeared before hitting the pavement.

He stood back a little as Sam pressed the door bell; this wasn't his mission, he was just the tool. The door was answered by a small Asian woman who appeared to be somewhere in her forties. Gabriel could only assume this was the prophet's mother. She greeted Sam kindly, then noticed Gabriel standing back slightly.

"Who's this?" she asked, and Sam glanced over at him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Gabriel beat him to it.

"Oh don't mind me," he said, waving them off. "Just an inconsequential archangel, here to help out an asshole and resurrect a prophet. Really, I'm no big deal." Linda Tran stared at him confused, and Sam glared.

"This is Gabriel," the hunter said as he turned back to face Linda. "And, well, he's right. He can bring Kevin back." She started at them, shock plainly written on her face, before stepping aside and letting them into her house. She led them to a neatly organized living room, gesturing for them to sit; Sam sat on one end of the couch, and Gabriel opted to sit on the opposite end.

"Where is Kevin, anyway?" Sam asked. Linda sighed as she sat down across from them.

"He's around somewhere," she responded. "It's hard to keep track." Sam nodded, and Gabriel rolled his eyes. Of course it's going to be hard to keep track of a ghost. "So, how will this work?" she asked finally, the question everyone had been asking themselves. Sam looked to Gabriel, and the angel sighed.

"First," he began, "I have to send his soul to heaven. Then it's simply the matter of rebuilding his body and restoring his soul to it." He decided to leave out the part about the tablet. "So, what's tying Kevin here?" The humans stared at him for a moment, then Linda moved to get something. She came back quickly, setting a small ring on the coffee table.

"This is it. It was his father's," she explained. Gabriel nodded and picked it up; he could feel the energy of the prophet's soul echoing through the small piece of metal.

"The easiest way to do this would be to burn it. But," he said as she opened her mouth to protest,"I'm not a dick. This probably has sentimental value, so I'm going to do it differently. Any arguments over there, Sasquatch?" Sam rolled his eyes at the name.

"Just about you being a dick," he said in response. Gabriel smirked, then closed his eyes, concentrating on the ring in his hands.

He reached past the strands of Kevin's soul wrapped around the ring, down to the tiny tendrils that forced their way through molecules and tied themselves to atoms. Carefully, he started to untie them, loosening them one by one until he was holding a ring in one hand and a soul in the other. He opened his eyes and released it, watching as the soul vanished from the earthly plane.

"Well there's that," he said, setting the ring back on the table while the humans stared at him. "Now for the hard part. This might take a while, so don't wait up for me." Gabriel grinned at them, and then he was back in heaven. Well, Kevin Tran's heaven, anyway.

Looking around, Gabriel found himself in a decent sized room, with a bed pushed against one wall and a writing desk with a computer against another. In a chair in the corner sat a kid, presumably Kevin, playing a cello softly. Gabriel listened for a moment before speaking; the kid really was talented.

"Your idea of heaven is playing the cello?" he asked, startling Kevin from his music. He looked Gabriel up and down suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

"A friend," Gabriel shrugged noncommittally. "The name's Gabriel."

"The archangel?"

"That's the one," he responded with a smirk.

"I've had enough crap from douche angels, thanks. I don't really need any more," Kevin said, dismissing the conversation.

"Hey, I'm only here to help."

"Yeah. The last people who said that got me killed," he scoffed.

"They got me killed too, kid." Kevin looked up at him again.

"Fantastic. What do you want?" Geez this kid was snarky. Gabriel could understand that, though, after having to deal with the Winchesters for two years.

"Well, first I need your help with something, but then I plan on giving you your life back." Kevin stared at him for a moment.

"You think I want that life back?" he asked. "Being a prophet sucked ass. I miss my mom, but I'd rather stay dead than be heaven's bitch boy again." Gabriel laughed out loud at that.

"I like you, kid. But I didn't mean you had to continue life as a prophet. I meant your real life, like before the Winchesters came crashing in." Kevin shook his head.

"No. There's no returning to a normal life. Dean said so."

"Ah, but now there's an archangel on your shoulder," Gabriel argued. Kevin gave him a confused look.

"What are you talking about?"

"They never told you? No, I suppose they wouldn't, it wasn't really relevant at the time," he mused to himself. "Every prophet is supposed to be protected by an archangel. Anything dangerous comes near said prophet, the archangel has to go smite the ever-loving fuck out of it. Problem is, there's only four of us. Michael and Lucifer are both still in the cage, Raphael is dead, and I was dead at the time. Basically you were left unprotected. But I'm back now, so you're covered."

"So, you're saying you're my guardian angel?" Kevin asked.

"Uh, no. I don't do the whole 'guardian angel' gig. Never been on prophet duty, either. I was kinda busy being a pagan trickster god. But I'm the only archangel around, now, so if you came back to life I'd be tied to you. If you were in any sort of danger I'd have to come." Kevin stood and started walking around the room.

"So, the only reason I'm dead," he stopped, turning to face Gabriel, "is because you were dead?"

"Yup," Gabriel nodded in agreement.

"And if I help you do this one thing, I get to return to my normal life, no strings attached?"

"That's right. You can live with your mom, go to college, play your cello… why were you playing that anyway?" Kevin sighed, looking at the wooden instrument in the corner.

"I haven't gotten to play ever since I met Sam and Dean," he explained. "It's relaxing, and just kinda normal." Gabriel nodded in understanding.

"Help me, just this once, and you can be normal. No more demons, no more crazy brothers. What do you say?" Kevin stared at the cello for a minute before turning his gaze back to the angel, a determined glint in his eyes.

"What do I need to do?"

****  
The office was dark when they walked into it, having been abandoned in the months since Metatron's downfall. Things were slightly different from the last time Gabriel was there, but he could care less about the arrangement of the furniture; he wanted the tablet that lay crushed behind the desk.

It felt eerie to be in the office, to disturb the silence and fine layer of dust that had settled over everything. They crept in quietly, thieves in the dark stealing a worthless treasure. Gabriel lead Kevin around the back of the desk; kneeling beside the crushed rock, the prophet reached out a hand towards it. A golden aura lit the room as tiny particles of rock rushed back to their proper place, and in just a few minutes Kevin was holding a fully restored Angel tablet.

Standing, Kevin turned toward Gabriel with the tablet. The angel looked at the stone with something akin to awe on his face; he had not seen any of the tablets firsthand, yet here was the word of his absent father.

"Here," Kevin said, shoving the tablet into his hands. "Take it." Gabriel accepted it, looking back up at the prophet.

"Thank you," he replied seriously.

"Don't thank me," the prophet scoffed. "Just destroy it when you're done with it." One of the archangel's hands went to the back of his neck, a human gesture he had picked up millenia ago.

"Ah, see, it's kinda funny," Gabriel said, watching as Kevin rolled his eyes. "You see, I don't know what this rock says. Sam absolutely refuses to go to Meta-douche, not that I blame him for that, and you're the only prophet in existence." He paused when Kevin sighed.

"You need me to translate it for you."

"No, I wanted you to hang it in your bedroom. Yes we need you to translate it! I guess, if we were opperating on the assumption that my father actually gives two fucks about this planet, I could try to find him and ask, but that could take five thousand years and another apocalypse and sorry, kid, but I just don't have the time for that. And time jumping is a bitch that I would rather not fuck with. So please, just translate the damned thing!" Gabriel hadn't meant to loose his temper, but his patience (along with what remaining sanity he had after galavanting with pagans for millions of years) was worn thin.

"How do I know you won't just take over heaven, like Metatron did?" Gabriel was still holding the tablet, but it meant nothing if Kevin didn't translate it.

"Because the whole 'running things' just ain't my schtick, kid," he growled. "We just need the part about an angel's Grace, restoring it and whatnot, so I can fix Castiel for that damned Sam Winchester. You don't even have to translate the whole thing, okay? Just what we need, then you can take the stupid tablet and do what you want. Does that sound agreeable to you?" He glared impatiently at Kevin, seriously considering unleashing his holy wrath on him, prophet duty be damned.

Kevin watched him from where he stood, observing calmly. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll translate it." Gabriel visibly sagged, and Kevin noticed the tired look in his eyes.

"Okay. Yeah, okay kid." He closed his eyes and began muttering something under his breath.

"What are you doing?" Kevin asked. Gabriel paused, but his eyes remained shut.

"You're gonna need a body to walk around in," he said, and resumed his muttering. A minute later he opened his eyes, glancing over at the prophet. "Alright then, kid. See you on the other side." Kevin heard a snap, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably haven't said this, but I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine. If you are interested in the job, contact me at mdeann.meeks4@gmail.com


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